Ode to our Fathers
by Greymoon68
Summary: The war as re-told by Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, life partners. AU as of the Half-Blood Prince. Severus Snape surrendered months after Albus's death and leaves all his belongings to his godson, Draco. Draco believes Snape to be a traitor to the light and responsable for his parent's death...so...what in the name of Salazar is going on?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling**

**Note: a longer project, not yet finished. see note at the end of chapter.**

* * *

**Forword **

This work is the last of the best selling series _We, the Purebloods and I_ started in 2001 by Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Astoria Greengrass. The series _We, the Purebloods and I_ calls attention to the plight of those the Daily Prophet has dubbed "The last purebloods". Breaking taboos, norms and customs _We, the purebloods and I _sets the standard for a new, and welcome variety of literature.

Culmination point of the series, "Ode to our fathers" follows in the footsteps of its series first installment "Children of Prestige Alley". Co-Written with life partner Harry Potter this work of fiction is inspired by true events that transpired in the UK from 1996 to 1999 during Voldemort's second rise to power. Possibly the most extensive retelling of the war thus far, Draco Malfoy tells a story of cowardice and courage, of a constant struggle between expectations and ideologies, politics, power, loyalty and betrayal. Whether as heir to Britain's greatest fortune, as pupil to war hero Severus Snape or as scion of Slytherin house, Malfoy shows the war from a brand new perspective: that of a boy born on the wrong side of conflict.

Or was it, the wrong side? For such is the question Malfoy asks. Was Voldemort truly, whom he appeared to be? How did Albus Dumbeldore shape the events that unfolded in the wizarding world these past fifty years? Who were in fact, the opposing factions of the war?

Some will claim, recent factual history should not be questioned. That is however, precisely what Draco Malfoy does. It is an ambitious book, unsettling in its conclusions. Population counts, death tolls and other ministry records are laid out in the open, painting such a confusing picture of the war, that even those actively involved in it begin to question their very perception…"Ode to our fathers" throws modern history out of the window and exceeds expectations.

From the fine luxury of Malfoy Manor to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Malfoy retells his own deflecting to the light, or, as he himself proclaims, to Harry Potter. Shedding light on never before recorded events, jumping across time and space, the author constructs an intricate portrait of Albus Dumbledore and exposes the wizard's complex relationship to Gellert Grindewald and to former pupil Tom Riddle. An intimate acquaintance of pureblood culture and close association with many of the Orders members, allowed Draco Malfoy to acquire a deep understanding of the conflict separating pureblood supremacist and so called muggle lovers.

While remaining a work of fiction, "Ode to our Fathers" is certainly to be considered of great historical importance. Whenever possible, transcripts, photographs or any other war records have been included for historical accuracy. It was the author's desire to retell the war with as much objectivity as possible, therefore, only when explicitly required, were names and events altered for the protection of an individual's privacy.

Hermione Longbottom London, 2004

* * *

Notes: If anyone's up to writing "We, the Pureblood's and I" or "Children of Prestige Alley" please feel free to PM me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Prologue **

"Trust no one's memory, not even your own." _Severus Snape June 1997_

Such were the last words spoken to me by Severus Snape, Potion master of Hogwarts School, right hand man of the Dark Lord Voldemort and murderer of Albus Dumbledore.

They were uttered in a rush, no louder than a whisper, dispersed through the evening breeze, but I heard them admits the chaos as if he had spoken then directly to my ears. I stood facing him, heart heavy with betrayal, a curse on the lips, but my hand had wavered long enough for him to stun me, quickly, with barely a thought. And his words pierced through me like a thousand sharp knives.

Memory is the strangest thing. Be it the memory of an individual or that of a whole society, it is prone to change, submitted to both internal and external influences. It is shaped, thorn, distorted by values, beliefs and unconscious desires. It is never accurate, and always subjective.

Memory is but the result of a cognitive process, an interpretation of sounds, smells, feelings and projections…

But of course, while I confronted Dumbeldore's murderer at the foot of Hogwart's astronomy tower, I had not yet come to such an understanding. I was a boy, shy by a few days of my 17th birthday, and my world up until that moment had been divided in blacks and whites.

Severus Snape had betrayed me, had betrayed Albus Dumbledore, and worse yet, he had betrayed my parents. For what? I did not know.

It wasn't until a month later, that I would begin to understand.

I spent the first week of summer in a muggle neighborhood, getting acquainted with my estranged aunt, Andromeda, her husband, Ted and my cousin Nymphadora. In retrospect it was a peaceful week, and not at all as uncomfortable as I once perceived it to be. I discovered the strange new world of muggle electronics, muggle music, muggle food… found myself a passion for muggle fashion, learned to cook, clean and work with my bare hands…But the war was never far, whether on Nymphadora's grim smiles, or Remus Lupin's gaunt features, it was there, lurking behind every corner.

I could barely sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Albus Dumbledore, limps flailing through the night air, heard Fenrir Greyback's laugher ringing through my ears and the deadly tones of Severus Snape.

_Avada Kedavra! _

At night, I was restless.

My next destination was revealed to me on July the 12th, precisely half an hour before departure. Nymphadora, Lupin and I would go to Grimmaulds Place by way of portkey.

Number twelve Grimmaulds place was, at the time of our story, the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. It was grim and damp and dark, and from my early stay there I remember only counting down the days until Harry Potter arrived.

I brooded and pouted, and brooded some more, waiting for Potter, waiting for news from the outside world, packing and unpacking supplies and clothes, eating up all of my chocolate frogs.

By the 31st of July, the day of Potter's arrival, I was ready for war.

Or so I thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 1 **

"This war was never about the purity of blood, or about traditions as some might claim. This conflict is not a conflict of ideals it is a question of power and who, should wield it." _Narcissa Malfoy April 1997_

* * *

**July the 31st 1997, around midnight **

For once since Draco's arrival at number twelve Grimmauld's place, two weeks prior, the tension leaves his shoulders.

Like a hyperactive ferret, he can do nothing but smile, jump around lightly on his feet, always in a very dignified manner, mind you, and let his eyes trail over Potter's body. He is thinner then he remembers, looking rather exhausted, but other than that…his glasses are askew, his hair is messed up, and his clothes…horrendous.

All is fine.

"Potter." Draco calls in ways of greeting.

Weasleys are known to be as subtle as hippogriffs, their loud intake of breath, makes him roll his eyes. Honestly.

"Malfoy" Harry returns, and Molly Weasley starts berating them.

"You will both behave."

Draco rolls his eyes again.

"It's time to put an end to this school rivalry, young men!"

Harry's lips curl and he nods once, swiftly.

It is true after all, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have been school rivals from their very first day at Hogwarts. They have gravitated towards each other, every year without exception, never passing up the chance to insult, hex, irritate or punch…

"Harry dear, you know what a horrible ordeal…"

Draco's smile morphs into a scowl.

"...Draco has gone through…"

They've been rivals for six years. In class, on the quiddich pit, in hallways, in Hogsmeade, in the Three Broomsticks…in bed.

"The order has agreed to offer him shelter; the poor dear has nowhere else to go."

All the while she waves her finger in warning in front of Harry's face. Draco sighs, and Harry pinches his lips together, looking very grim and nodding to her every word.

"Now, to bed with you…off you trot" she pushes Harry up the stairs, huffing and puffing all the while. Ronald, Hermione and Ginny follow swiftly behind.

"You're sharing a room with _Malfoy_." Ron stage whispers. "It was either _him _or Mad-Eye Moody. Mum didn't think it'd be a good idea to put them together…and…err…I chose Moody, obviously."

He shrugs in a non comical way, and Harry turns around lightly catching the other's eye. Draco winks. Harry blushes.

And that blush brings all kinds of memories with it…

They've been rivals for six years…

_I'll do you quicker, just you wait…- sure, meanwhile you might want to get my trousers off…_

"err…that's…that's fine Ron."

They were silly little boys, pulling pigtails….

_Ever done this before Potter? – err…no?_

_Salazar save us, then…I haven't a clue, either_

"But…you know…I mean…If you _really _want to…we could…"

They grew up.

_I didn't hurt you did I? – uhm…no…it's just a bit…weird, really, but…its fine…I mean…it was._

"That's fine Ron."

They have a lot in common…

_Draco is lying on his belly his lover's back is slick with sweat…in and out, slowly now…he's gasping for breath..._

"I mean, Moody _is _alright…bit of a snorer, and, well last night he jumped off his bed, wand drawn and all, and _aimed a stunner at the door!..._ And he keeps muttering constant vigilance in his sleep…but well…"

…more than one might think

_Harry 's lying on his back, knees against his lovers 'chest…In and out, carefully now…he's gasping for breath..._

"Ron, really, it's okay."

They've taken their rivalry to another level.

"Are you sure, mate?"

'cause they were silly little boys pulling pigtails.

_What happened to Draco Malfoy, sex god? – Shut up you perv_

"Yeah, yeah…I'm sure."

Draco bites his tongue to swallow his laugher and swiftly makes his way to his…_their_…bedroom.

He opens the window, fluffs up the pillows, draws both four posters together…checks his breath, his hair, his fingernails, unbuckles his belt, throws it over to the chair…he takes his shoes off, loses his balance, pulls off his socks, throws them in a corner… undoes his button up shirt down to its middle, and, relaxes against the headboard.

He isn't nervous.

As an afterthought, he draws his wand, and cast a series of silencing spells. He places his wand carefully back onto the night stand. And waits.

He crosses his legs. Uncrosses them. Pulls on his waistband. Crosses his legs. Crosses his arms. Furrows his brow. Uncrosses his arms. Sighs…

Merlin, he _is _nervous.

He fluffs up the pillows again…and the door opens. Startled, he falls from the makeshift bed, clutching a pillow to his chest.

"hum…hi." He says from whence he has landed, so unceremoniously on the floor. Harry chuckles, offers him a hand. Draco drops the pillow back onto the bed, stands, stares and swallows.

"Hi."

"Happy…ah…birthday." Its all so bloody awkward that Draco not quite knowing what else to say, lowers his gaze turns towards the bed…

"uhm…thank you." …and throws a pillow at Harry's head.

"Were the _fuck _is your _stupid_ GRYFFINDOR COURA_- Uhmph_."He melts.

"Sweet circe…"

A chuckle against his cheek-

"it's Harry"

A whisper across his lips-

"Shut u-"

His protest is swallowed by another kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco lies on his belly, gasping for breath. He wouldn't mind dying like this, blissfully unaware of anything else but Potter…Harry, really… moving over him, inside him…hands clasped together, breath mingling…the arm beneath his chest holds him so tight, it's almost painful, but he doesn't mind, really.

And its sweaty, he's sweaty, and normally, he hates it….but Harry's chest is gliding against his back, all warm and sweaty and firm…but he doesn't mind that, either. So it's okay, to be sweaty.

The window is open, the air fresh, and it gives him goosebumps. Or maybe it's Harry's fingers, now feather light over his skin…

* * *

They lie side by side. Hot and exhausted and sweaty. He lets his eyes travel over Harry. He's never _really _looked before, not like this, not so openly.

They stare at each other, for what seems like hours. The silence shattered only by the occasional car or drunkard passing beneath the window.

They've pushed the duvet off the bed, it's summer, and the room is warm….the air outside is still fresh, but it's nice and it makes Draco shiver.

They are naked, with nothing in-between them.

Harry doesn't even recall if the arm beneath his head is his own or Draco's.

"Do you think _this_ is what Mrs. Weasley had in mind when she told us to _behave?" _Harry wonders after a while, eyes mischievous. Draco snorts, raises an eyebrow.

"Certainly _not…_Molly Weasley is the kind of woman, who still thinks her eldest is innocent to the pleasur-" he gets poked in the stomach, lightly. "_pleasure of the flesh." _He sticks his tongue out.

"_ponce" _

* * *

He wakes first. Stretches languidly, and wriggles his toes. His eyes travel over the dark hair resting just beside his pillow. It is curious, he reflects, to wake up next to someone.

He smiles to himself, wonders what Harry would do if…he were to wake him?

He is tempted to wake the sleepyhead, but he doesn't. Instead, he crawls out of bed, stretches again, slips into his clothes from a day prior, and trots down the stairs.

He pours himself a cup of coffee, black, no sugar, and sits down next to Remus Lupin. He has learned to appreciate his former professor, and remembers not so proudly the young boy he was, prejudiced against Werewolves, muggleborns and bloodtraitors.

It is funny really, that of all of Grimmaulds Place inhabitants, Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger and Mrs. Weasley are the only early risers. They cover the whole spectrum of Draco's prejudiced youth, all by themselves.

Lupin's eyes keep gravitating towards him, but Draco doesn't notice. He is entranced by his coffee, holds the burning hot liquid just below his lips and blows.

He likes the feeling of steam against his skin.

"hum-hum" he blinks. Molly is standing before him, looking expectant.

"uhm…Good Morning…Mrs. Weasley…?"

He is still with his coffee, the steam against his cheeks… and Lupin's eyes are gravitating towards him, nostrils flaring…

"Are you-" _sniffing me out? _He almost says, and is glad he never finishes that sentence. Ron Weasley enters the kitchen, with heavy feet and messed up hair, and Draco returns to his contemplation.

Coffee…

He is _not _a morning person.

After Ron enter Ginny, Mad-Eye and Tonks.

Draco is nursing his third cup, still nibbling on his first toast and reading the Daily Prophet over Lupin's shoulder when Molly decides it's time to wake the birthday boy. Draco tenses, Lupin stands...and in a matter of seconds the breakfast tray is taken from her hands.

"I…will bring this up…Molly, no worries."

Lupin flies out, Draco blinks.

The morning mist dissipates, and the clogs turn in his head.

He drops his head onto the table with a bang.

Remus Lupin is a werewolf and Draco Malfoy is most certainly wearing _Essence of Harry _all over himself…

He is _not _a morning person.


	5. Chapter 5

**Year Six Interlude **

**March the 25th 1997 **

He doesn't know who throws the first hex.

Hermione keeps telling him that his obsession with Draco Malfoy is unhealthy, but he never listens. Like a love sick school girl he's been stalking the slytherin for the better part of the year, and even that day, despite his better judgment, he follows him.

He is over confident; certain that Malfoy is a death eater. He knows nothing.

Draco retreats into the second floor bathroom, and Harry follows shortly after.

Draco's crying.

Harry knows he's overreached.

They fight.

Hexes fly everywhere, over their heads, by their sides, missing them by inches. 'Till one hits home, and Draco is disarmed. Harry'd never imagined to one day see Draco Malfoy fighting like a muggle, but he does. He throws the first punch; Harry loses his wand and hits him back.

Nose, belly, crotch. They are barely aware, they are rolling around on the floor, bloodied , angry, and focused entirely on each other.

"Students fighting in the Bathroom! Students Fighting in the bathroom!" Moaning Myrtle's shrieking but they pay her no heed. They both need this. Either of them could have reached for their wand again, but neither of them wants to lose another opportunity to hit.

They could have killed each other certainly.

"Students fighting in the bathroom! Students figh…oh…_owwwwwwwww_"

"STUDENTS SNOGGING IN THE BATHROOM!"

They aren't snogging, per se. Moaning Myrtle has always had a tendency to exaggerate. They are barely touching lips. It is chaste and unexpected.

Harry sits, frozen, wide eyed, with an armful of Malfoy, the other's lips against his own by some strange coincidence. Draco's eyes are closed, cheeks wet with tears, chin bloodied.

Somehow, the novelty of it stops Harry from pulling away.

"STUDENTS SNOGGING IN THE BATHROOM! _Hihi" _

Severus Snape has always been an opportunist.

"Well well well…what do we have here…?"

Alerted by Moaning Myrtle's hysterical giggle, he's come to investigate. They pull apart, like burnt, and just like that Draco's wand in his hand again, and he aims it at the professor.

"_OBLIVI…!" _he's disarmed quickly by a wave of Snape's hand. The professor glares.

"Mr. Malfoy, report to my office at once." Draco scampers, and Harry… Harry's left to deal with Severus Snape's anger, knowing without knowing that something in the order of the universe has irremediably been changed.

It isn't until he reaches the safety of his four poster bed, all the way up in Gryffindor tower, that he begins to decipher the frantic beating of his heart.

_tha-thum, tha-thum_, _tha-thum_

It is like a message written in Morse code.

"Oh god…"

It is a monster demanding attention, pounding against his rib cage.

"Merlin's saggy left testicle…"

It is horrid. Awful. The stuff of nightmares!

"Bloody hell…"

He is over confident, certain that Malfoy is a death eater. Hermione keeps saying that his obsession with Malfoy is unhealthy. He never listens.

He knows nothing.

The universe is righted on its axe.

_tha-thum, tha-thum_, _tha-thum_

"Merlin, no!" he cries, throwing himself back unto his bed. He covers his face with a pillow, because, childishly he thinks, that if he can't see it, then maybe the world outside doesn't exist, and maybe the problem will just go away.

Harry sits frozen, wide eyed, and the novelty of it keeps him from pulling away.

"Not happening."

It isn't a kiss per se, just a touching of lips, chaste and unexpected.

_tha-thum, tha-thum_, _tha-thum_

It is better than flying, better than catching the snitch. It's exhilarating, shocking, disturbing, brilliant, wonderful… and it feels more like a kiss than any other kisses he's ever had.

"Fuck it!" He chucks his pillow across the room.

There is no use in lying. He is attracted to Draco Malfoy, and that, makes a hell of a lot of sense. Somehow.


	6. Chapter 6

**July the 31st 1997 **

He wakes to the smell of coffee. He is sprawled across the bed on his belly, naked bum covered only by a thin white sheet.

Trapped in that pleasant state between sleep and awareness, Harry cuddles deeply into his pillow, dimly aware of the ache in his muscles. He smiles contently to himself, remembering his birthday present with fondness.

It was tiring, certainly, to share a room with Draco Malfoy, but Harry thought, smile brightening, that he could get used to it. Twice he'd woken in the middle of the night, Draco's hands wandering over his body and a hard cock pressed against his thigh… once in the early morning.

He is hard just thinking about it. Biting his lower lip, Harry stretches out rolling over onto his back and opens bleary eyes.

"Dra-" he stops abruptly when his eyes focus on the man standing in the doorway. He almost jumps out of his skin. _Almost _

"Not quite." With a horrified, embarrassed expression, Harry draws the bed sheet over his morning wood in one swift gesture, and brings his knees up to his chest, for good measure.

"_oh_…"

For a moment, Remus stands frozen in the doorway his brow furrowed curiously. The werewolf's eyes roam across the room, before looking searchingly into Harry's own. Harry feels himself blush under the scrutiny. Shifting lightly on the bed, he pulls the bed sheet higher over his chest and a nervous hand darts out from underneath to smooth his hair.

"It's eleven in the morning and Molly was… _worried_…" Remus Lupin explains, pointing to the tray in his hands with his chin. His eyes remain unreadable when he finally steps in; head darting back and forth curiously.

After a moment he offers the boy a tentative smile.

"Rough night?"

"uhm…"

Harry doesn't know what to do. He can't quite get over the fact that he stretched out completely naked sporting a rather _impressive _morning erection, in front of Remus Lupin. To make things worse, he's still naked underneath the bed sheet, looking entirely debauched and the air is sticky and smells of sex…and more sex.

There is clothes thrown haphazardly across the room and a small jug of _Alfie's Wondrous Balm _sits neatly on the night stand, besides his wand.

"…"

Remus Lupin balances the breakfast tray in one hand, smoothly pushes the jug away with the other…there, breakfast on the night table, eyes on the label

_Colorless and soothing… _

The letters glitter across the jug

_For adventurous witches and wizards… _

Harry scratches his head, feeling utterly embarrassed

…_offers thorough lubrification for daily use_

Lupin sits down on the bed, meets Harry's eyes.

_Heating charm incorporated for greater fun!_

"Be glad that I volunteered to bring you breakfast." Harry squeezes his eyes shut.

"Molly…would…what's the expression..." Lupin wonders out loud. "Have kittens…?" he smiles.

"_Please don't tell her." _Harry begs, grabbing at Lupin's arm with both hands, the sheet slides down his chest.

Lupin raises an eyebrow.

"Is this supposed to be a secret?"

"_Yes" _

"You're not doing a great job keeping it." he waves his free hand around the room.

"I…we…err…I mean…" he sighs releases Lupin's arm and shrugs.

"we hadn't _seen _each other in over a _month." _The eyebrow rises higher.

"I see…this…has been going on for some time?" a nod.

"April." Harry mumbles, uncomfortable.

"it…it was kinda…uhm…it was _part _of the reason Draco switched sides…I guess..not the main one obviously_, but…_I mean…it's not like Voldemort would ever _tolerate _homosexuality or…or any _imperfection _or such non senseand-and _Snape _told him all these horrid stories 'bout what they _did _too people like us and then there was his moth-" there 's a hand clapped over his mouth, and Harry's eyes cross.

"Breathe" Lupin tells him with a furrowed brow.

"I did wonder about Narcissa's sudden change of heart…." He releases Harry's mouth, lips curling into a soft smile.

"Either way…I'm not here to scold you Harry, I just wanted to talk."

"oh…uhm…okay." His eyes settle on the breakfast tray…bacon, and scrambled eggs; toast and marmalade, slices of peaches and apples, strawberries and raspberries… Merlin, it looks good. He grabs at the coffee, sticks a raspberry unto his index finger, pops it into his mouth…

"so…you are…_gay?" _

"…_Surprise!" _Harry tries lamely.

"you are not just experimenting…?"

Harry's brow furrows as he recalls a sticky situation involving Ginny Weasley and the room of requirements…

He shakes his head, shudders in remembrance a tight smile across his lips.

"nope…definitely gay, forever and evermore" he sounds almost defeated, and avoids looking at Lupin, because he's not sure he can face him. He's afraid of what he might see, written across the other's face. He eats another raspberry.

"Alright then." He dares a swift glance in Remus's direction, sees the furrowed brow…

"I picked this up for your birthday." Remus says, pulling a tiny little book out of his pocket robe. It expends to full size when he taps it with his wand.

"I gathered from our last discussion that you were interested in healing so…there you go…it's an Auror manual for basic field healing…" Harry grabs at the book curiously, still avoiding Remus's eyes…

"uhm…thanks."

"And…I'm quite sure you'll find plenty of _recreational _use for some of those spells in the appendix…" Remus says lightly and Harry looks up.

A smile. A brilliant bloody fucking smile.

Acceptance.

All of his embarrassment, his state of nakedness beneath the sheet, everything is momentarily forgotten, and he hugs Remus tightly.

"_Thank you thank you thank you thank you! _Merlin, you have no idea how fucking-"

"Language Harry"

"How _fucking _scared I was…just, thank you Remus!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: this chapter has been published previously in another set of assembled ficlets and unfinished works. **

* * *

**August 1st 1997 **

"Mother"

She faces away from him. Her back straight and narrow, covered in a cloak that pools gracefully around her feet. She nods once, lightly, her eyes never meeting his. For hours she'd stood by the window, shoulders tense in anticipation, her face as always covered by a dark veil. Outside the night sky is bright with stars, the moon reflecting against the window pane, the veil flutters lightly in the breeze, and when she turns his way slightly, the light catches her eyes. They shine like diamonds in the dark.

She has always been beautiful, but in moments such as these, when life is put on hold and only wild animals still roam the forest beyond, his breath would catch in his throat and he would wonder, every time, how any could ever resist her.

"It is time." Again she nods, her eyes shadowed, lips turning up beneath her veil in some twisted parody of a smile.

"Indeed." She pauses and he imagines a flicker of doubt crossing her features. It was perhaps only wistful thinking. She turns around again, towards the window; he closes his eyes and turns on his heel, head held high.

In one swift movement he grabs his cloak, letting the hood fall amply around his brow, he looks back again, nods to himself, and breathes.

He takes a step, the heel of his boots echoing loudly in his ears, and he bites his lip, confidence wavering, shattered like the silence around them both.

And then…

"Blaise?" he stops.

"_Half breed _or no, you are my son. Make certain Mortimer remembers."

He supposes he should have answered, but instead he flees, her words gnawing at his heart like a wound that'd never heal.

_Half-breed_, _monster, freak… _

He wishes he could have held her one last time.

The gathering has started when he arrives. Hundreds of his mother's kin have come from across the British islands. his heart his hammering against his rib cage as he sees the shadows moving alongside him, swift and graceful, to the human eye they would appear no more than smoke.

And yet, he sees their faces, glimpses the outlines of their bodies. But further away, they blur and blend together like one dark fog and his head is spinning, his breathing ragged. He shadows his own face deeper into the folds of his cloak. He shudders when their cold breath grazes against his neck, and he imagines their laughter…

_Half-breed, monster, freak… _

Then, he enters the hall. Thousand eyes turn towards him as one, nostrils flaring, tasting the air. He lowers his hood.

"Wizard" one of them says, and chuckles.

"The Black Widow sends me" he answers, eyes challenging and giving nothing away. Inside he is trembling. A rumor goes through the assembly; the man who addressed him raises a hand in warning.

"The Black Widow you say?" Blaise nods, defiant. The man chuckles again, his eyes roaming over the boys features. He smirks.

"You are that abomination she calls a son."

"I am." Blaise admits. Torches and candles play shadows across his face, and briefly, when he speaks, his canines show, white and sharp against the dark of his skin. Again, whispers across the assembly. He smirks.

"Though abomination is not the word I would use." He says after a moment.

"Rather…I am the better of two worlds." He states, boldly. His fear has abated; still he is all too conscious of the blood pumping through his veins and the magic stirring restlessly in his body.

The man laughs, and the last of his worries vanish.

"I'll vouch for you, _abomination_."

tbc.


	8. Chapter 8

**August 4th 1997**

Checkmate.

His queen is surrounded.

He wants to punch Ronald on his nose and wipe that smug look off his face.

"A word with you, before we eat…" Draco's brow furrows, but he nods all the same, the others follow the call of their stomachs, Harry lingering a little behind, just to make sure…Draco nods again, for Harry sake, and he is left alone, in the drawing room, with Arthur Weasley.

"I found some documents at the Ministry." He pulls a few rolls of parchment out of his suitcase, rolls them out on the table, next to the chess board.

_14th of July, Gringotts Bank, London _

"Grimmaulds place is under fidelus as you know…the letter was redirected towards the Ministry" Draco nods, continues to read.

_To Draco Abraxas Malfoy, _

_Location Unknown _

_Mr. Malfoy _

_As the sole beneficiary of the late Severus Snape, please make an appointment at the next available date with the Gringotts Committee for inheritance clearing. _

_In the absence of a reply, the Last Will and Testament of Severus Snape shall until further notice be suspended. _

_May your Gold always flow, _

_Director Ragnock. _

_Gringotts Goblin Bank for wizards and magical Creatures. _

_Diagon Alley, London_

"you…_found _this?" Draco wonders. Arthur gives him a half smile.

"Not quite…Percy knew about it…and well…I might have _stumbled across" _he says, but means _stolen "_it…there's more." He points at another parchment.

_To Draco Abraxas Malfoy _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

"That one was…held up, unfortunately…"

_May the 25th 1997_

_Mr. Malfoy _

_As per Ministry decree 117, paragraph 8, your presence is required for the reading of the Last Will and Testament of the late Lucius Malfoy, head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, and his spouse. _

_Claimants to: _

- _The Vaults 57 and 824 of House Malfoy at Gringotts Bank, London _

- _The Ancestral Manor of House Malfoy, Wiltshire _

- _A seat at the British Winzgamot _

- _A sea-side villa in Sicily _

- _An estate in Bourgogne, France _

- _Vineyards and lands in Bourgogne, France_

_Are thus invited to present themselves in front of the Winzgamot, this 1st of July 1997 at 10 O'clock precisely, to determine the best course of action and nominate the next head of House Malfoy. Any claimant who fails to appear, forfeits all rights and claims to the House of Malfoy, on its material, on its worldly and on its financial assets. _

The letter falls limply from his hands.

He can't think. He doesn't care about the money.

"I'm terribly sorry."

He can't breathe.

"Who?"

He feels light headed, his ears are buzzing. He doesn't care about the seat.

"Paul Parkinson."

Draco is quite certain that he is more closely related to the Weasley brood, than any Parkinsons. His Great Aunt is the elderly Muriel Weasley after all, the very same woman who has caused so much dissent between Arthur and Lucius…

There isn't any record of blood ties between Malfoys and Parkinsons…or, rather, the only record is a hand written parchment by Robert Parkinson stating something along the line of "X married Y which makes Lord Abraxas Malfoy, my cousin once removed"

Draco laughs humorlessly.

Kinship, contrary to popular beliefs, was until very recently, selective. A wizard's genealogy was not sorely defined by agnative ties. Now, it was your father's or your grangfather's name that carried weight, later, it was that famous uncle, your mother's brother, who became the defining point of your identity.

Whether horizontal or vertical kinship, agnative or cognative ties, it made little difference, as long as one could claim some degree of relatedness.

And doesn't that put the whole pureblood discourse into an interesting perspective?

"A Second cousin, could be worse…"

Parkinson. Pansy's old man, a second cousin. A man, Draco wasn't certain shared _any _of the Malfoy blood, but had, for as long as he could remember, been after the Malfoy fortune.

And now it's being taken from him.

It's his home, his parents, his first memories, first pranks, first laugher…it's an integral part of his identity, it's the very first set of norms with which he has defined the world…

It could be worse…

"Fuck."

He doesn't usually swear in front of elders.

But really. He can't think…just…FUCK because Parkinson is a death eater, and his childhood home now all but belongs to the Dark Lord… he shudders.

"I…need to…" he stands, doesn't take time to finish his sentence… he needs to write a letter…or two.

_FUCK_

_tbc. _


	9. Chapter 9

Something's nagging at his mind.

"It doesn't make sense" Harry says, rubbing his eyes tiredly beneath his glasses.

His sock clad feet are resting on Draco's thighs. It is such a small gesture he thinks, and yet, it means quite a lot. Here, in front of Hermione, they don't have to hide anything, she's known about their relationship from the moment it started.

From time to time, her eyes lift from her books and trail between the both of them. They rest on Harry's feet or on the light furrow of Draco's brow as he concentrates on a particular paragraph. And every time, her lips never fail to curl up smugly, before she buries her nose in the heavy tome again. They're sitting in the drawing room, he, Draco and Hermione. It's late and Ron's fallen asleep on the couch. He snores.

"I was talking to Remus earlier" Harry says "Snape was arrested on the 13th, and he didn't really fight the aurors or anything…"

Hermione nods, pushes an old edition of the Prophet under his nose.

"It's written there, black on white: _Dumbledore's murderer to be executed _" she reads .

"I found it strange too…he didn't even request veritae serum" her brow furrows "He only asked for that one favor." She points at the article.

"A _sleeping drought so powerful to stop his heart." _She worries her lower lip. "I'm surprised they allowed it. He should have been given the kiss."

Draco puts his book aside. He's been reading Harry's birthday present and it's proven to be quite interesting apparently. Ever since he's stolen the auror's healing manual not an hour after Harry'd gotten it, he's refused to set it aside.

Looking in between them both, Draco sighs, and shakes his head.

"The law states that any wizard found guilty of a crime may object to the dementor's kiss as long as he's testified _without _coercion. Veritae Serum makes that right null." He explains simply

"_And_" he continues, "if you knew Severus, it makes sense. He was very proud; it's just like him to choose the manner of his death"

"But why would he name you in his will? I mean after _everything?" _Harry wonders, Draco shrugs.

"I was his godson…I suppose, somehow…he still cared. Not that it matters, really." He leans back into his chair, crosses both hand behind his head and sighs.

"And as far as I know he had no relatives of his own. Snape's father was a muggle, and since I don't even know his name, I suppose their relationship wasn't the best….as for his mother, she died when he was still in school. Eileen Prince, pureblood and last of her line, disowned on the day of her marriage."

Hermione gives Harry a pointed look.

"Can we talk about something else now?" Draco says clearly uncomfortable with the topic of his Godfather. Shifting in his seat, he starts perusing the book again.

"Listen to that" he tells them, mischievous eyes darting in Harry's direction.

"_In the absence of_ _cleansing potions, a_ _mild Tergeo can be used for the cleaning of superficial wounds. It should be noted, however, that Tergeo, when applied to intimate regions such as the vagina, clitoris, penis verge or anus produces intense sensations of pleasure and should thus not be used if the victim suffers from nerve damage or is at risk of heart failure." _

He looks quite proud of himself, when Harry blushes, looking sideways at Hermione and back to Draco, lightly embarrassed.

"That _is_ quite _useful_ actually." Hermione says after a moment. Harry's brow furrows…

"Honestly Harry, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." She tells him dismissingly, making an attempt to grab the book from Draco.

"Back off Granger" he swings around in his seat, holding the book high over his head. But since nothing deters Hermione Granger when she desires a book it takes her barely a second to jump up, both hands outstretched...and land sprawled over the table.

"Circe!" Draco shrieks in a rather undignified manner, deserting his own chair just as suddenly. For a minute or two, they stare at each other. Hermione lying on the table across parchments and books, Draco arm outstretched and the auror manual held high other his head. Harry's brow is still furrowed in consternation.

Then, they laugh.

Slowly, Hermione crawls back into her seat, a smile playing across her lips, Draco returns to his chair, making a show of looking annoyed, and Harry, returns to his thoughts. His feet clad socks, find their place on Draco's lap again.

Ron lets out a loud snore.

Harry turns around and looks quite bewildered at the red head, heavily asleep on the couch, one arm dangling on the floor, the other lying comfortably on his stomach and legs spread wide open.

"I can't believe he slept through that." Hermione comments fondly.

"I can't believe you were so desperate for that book." Harry tells her pointedly. She has the decency to blush, and shrugs her shoulders lightly.

"I do think it important that we learn as much as we can about healing before…you know…" Draco raises an eyebrow at them and puts the book back down.

"Right that's it. Enough with this whispering nonsense…" he says "you obviously have a _very secret mission _to accomplish and I suggest you either _stop _talking about it when I'm present _or _you tell me what this bloody thing's about." Before either of them can open their month, Draco lifts a hand, cutting them off.

"Look, I know it's got to do with the Dark-…You-Know-Who…" he swallows "and that you mean to leave this place…which I really don't fucking understand. I mean, this house is hidden right? So what the fuck do you think you're doing planning a _camping trip?" _

Harry and Hermione stare at each other for a moment, before the young witch inclines her head.

"It's your call Harry." She tells the boy.

"Right…" Worrying his lower lips it takes him half a second to decide. He draws his wand and casts a quick _muffliato _smirking lightly at Draco's astounded expression.

"You know _that _spell?" Harry nods.

"What? Did you think Gryffindor's don't know a thing about stealth and spying?"

"I am _not _answering that, _Harrykins_." Draco says, pinching Harry's big toe as he does. Harry remembers his own rather embarrassing attempts at spying not a year prior and with a light nod, decides to pass comment after all.

"Alright…so…this mission…" he starts. "err…Hermione, help me out?" she rolls her eyes at him and pursues her lips.

"The beginning is usually where to start." She remarks, arms crossed in front of her. Her eyes settle on Draco.

"Voldemort created six Hocruxes." She explains. "a Hocrux is-"

"An object which contains a piece of someone's soul. I know that." Draco tells her. Her eyes widen ever so slightly and she glances at Harry again. He shrugs.

Harry shouldn't have been surprised. All too well he remembers his second year at Hogwarts, and the part Lucius Malfoy played in the opening of the chamber of Secrets. Certainly, Harry reflected, Voldemort couldn't have been too happy about that event, he doubted Lucius Malfoy was ordered anything else but to hold on to the Diary, a Hocrux, and to keep it safe.

"You might want to remember who my parents were." Draco says as way of explanation. "We do…_did _have a rather interesting library…and besides, living at the manor with _him…_I couldn't help but, _ah, _overhear some things, obviously."

Harry nods, somewhat relieved to learn that Draco is not entirely clueless and that perhaps even, his insight might prove helpful. Comforted in his decision to trust his lover, he leans forwards to take hold of Draco's hand. He smiles grimly.

"Alright.. So you know what they are…he's created six as Hermione said and we have to destroy them all _before _I-" he stop there, brow furrowed and shakes his head. "Before _we, _I mean...before we face him. As long as the hocruxes remain, he can't be killed."

"Alright" says Draco. "So…six, _eh_?" a small sarcastic chuckle escapes his lips "bloody psychopath, isn't he?"

No one comments on that.

"So that's the mission…but I still don't get why you mean to leave?"

"err..well…for one, few know what a hocrux is, and we intend to keep it that way to prevent a redux." Harry says. "and two…the more people know of this _mission _the more likely it is that Voldemort gets wind of it and we don't want _that _obviously…it'd make the search that much more complicated."

Looking apologetically at Hermione, Harry continues.

"The third reason is that…Molly Weasley won't ever let us go..._she means well of course_" he adds quickly when Hermione open her mouth in protest "but she keeps treating us like children, and in all honesty I don't have the energy to fight. And…It's better if we leave without warning anyway, for their safety and _ours_."

tbc.


	10. Chapter 10

**May 20th 1997**

"Look I…"he sighs. "This isn't easy." He scratches his head, sighs again.

"Sit down, won't you?" he pats the bed next to him, takes her hand.

He sighs.

"I…" his shoulders sag and his mouth closes up again.

"Harry." She squeezes his hand. "What's going on?" she wonders softly.

He looks at her, finds the courage he lacks inside her chestnut eyes. His lips curl up into a small smile.

He knows her, better than he knows anyone else, there is no reason to be afraid. She is after all, his friend.

He knows her to be reasoned, to be tolerant, to be open minded. He knows she loves him just as much as he loves her.

There is no reason really to hesitate.

He takes a big breath.

"I'm…gay"

Her reaction isn't what he has expected. Her eyes widen, but they do not look alarmed. She looks relieved, in fact which makes him furrow his brow.

"Oh" she says and grins. "Well. Alright." She squeezes his hand lightly. "You scared me for a moment. I thought-" she smiles "Never mind."

"Uhm…" he worries his lips. "Ok"

He's still quite bewildered by her reaction but decides that he doesn't want to know, and that if it was anything important, she would tell him anyway. So he gathers his courage and continues.

"There's more…I'm…"

It's easier now that he's started-

"I'm seeing someone…kinda….err…it's weird actually." The smile drops off her face.

"It's not…it's not _Ron, _is it?" she blurts and sounds almost panicked. Harry chuckles, tries his best not to think about how weird _that _would be…

"No." She's relieved again.

"Right. Silly me." Her eyes twinkle. "So…who is he?" Harry shrugs.

"Is he handsome?" she wonders.

"Very." he says and blushes.

"He is…he's…" He trails off, looking searchingly across the room as if it held any answers for him.

"It's just weird…we don't talk much…it's…it just happened like that…like it was normal…uhm…_expected_…" He shrugs

"I didn't even…I mean…I wasn't even _really _aware that I…" He bites his lower lip.

"I...I kind of noticed that…that I paid attention to…uhm…" He blushes "to boys a lot…but I'd never…I'd only kissed Cho…and well…you know"

Hermione is the only one who knows about Ginny, mostly because Ginny told her.

She knows about the room of requirement and the sticky situation, and she knows why Harry fled.

"Anyway …kissing him is…incredible." He blushes again. "It feels right, I guess…"

She smiles.

"I'm happy you figured it out." His smile falters

"Yeah…"

"So…" she starts again "Who is he?"

Again he avoids her eyes, and shrugs. Her brow furrows.

"Right…it's not a professor, is it?" She wonders, sounding worried now. Harry shakes his head, makes a disgruntled face at the same time.

"Merlin _no!" S_he shrugs.

"By the way you act, one would think that what you're hiding…unless…" Her brow furrows again, she looks at him searchingly.

"Bill Weasley?" He lifts both eyebrows at once.

"What is it with you and red heads 'Mione? and besides…when would I have time to see him?"

She shrugs and smiles mysteriously.

"But I do know him…" He doesn't answer and she takes it as a yes.

"So it's not Kingsley Shakebolt either then…" She mumbles pensively and he marvels at her taste in men.

"Handsome but…no. He's too old…" She lifts an eyebrow.

"Dean Thomas!"

"Err…no." Slowly, her smile falters.

"Seamus?" He looks at her skeptically.

"N_ope. _I did say he was _handsome_…"

He chuckles at her disgruntled face she points a finger at his chest.

"That's a matter of definition Harry." He rolls his eyes. Her eyes twinkle.

"Neville?" again he shakes his head

"Hand-" She cuts him off, rolling her eyes at him this time.

"So, he's a bit plum around the middle, but he has charisma, don't deny it."

He sighs.

"Yeah, alright…he's not bad. But compared to _Dean…" _

"Yes yes, well…" She looks thoughtfully around the room, and then back to him.

"I don't understand…why all _this_" she gestures vaguely around the dorm. "Why this discretion if he's neither older, nor your best friends brother, nor your roommate?"

Harry shifts uncomfortably on the bed.

Any minute now, she should figure it out.

"Oh." She says after a moment.

"He's a Slytherin." She whispers. He doesn't say yes…but he doesn't deny it either. He holds his breath.

"Alright… _Blaise Zabini, _and _don't look _at me like _that _Harry, he is undeniably handsome"

"_Err…_yeah…he is" he starts slowly. "But… it's not him."

He sees the moment she understands.

"Oh" Hermione says eyes wide. "Oh my…"

"…"

"Since _when?" _she wonders, unbelieving.

He shrugs, looks down towards his lap…

"You remember that day…when I came back with a black eye?" she nods, her lips lightly parted.

"That was…" she swallows, heavily "Three weeks before his parents died." Harry nods.

"Yeah." A hand goes up in his hair.

"I…saw him leave the hall after Katie came back…" he tells her.

"He was crying" Harry sighs, and lies down against the mattress, one hand beneath his head.

"From what I understand…Voldemort gave him a mission" He swallows, shakily, thinks _I told you so_ but doesn't say it. Now is not the time, and besides…she was right, somewhat.

"Katie…was an accident…collateral damage…" He sighs "He told me, he spent the summer with his aunt, Bellatrix"

Harry's fits clenches at his side.

"She made him do things…she taught him dark magic…taught him to torture and hurt…to inflict pain…" He trails off, voice shaking.

"She used his mother… to demonstrate."

Hermione says nothing but her presence by his side is conforming, so he continues.

"He was given the choice to serve or to die. Voldemort held his parent's life against him." Hermione nods, eyes downcast.

"He failed his mission then…" she concludes. Harry nods.

"Yeah…he meant to deflect…but he was discovered."

"That's awful" he nods.

"Yeah."

They stay in silent contemplation for a good five minutes before Hermione nudges him in the ribs.

"So…do you now _admit_ that you might have been…a little _obsessive _about Malfoy?" Harry chuckles.

"You don't know the half of it."

tbc.


	11. Chapter 11

**August 7th 1997**

Neville hates the month of august with a passion. August is the time of family reunions; an event Neville has dreaded since his early childhood. It is his Gran's birthday next week and time to meet great uncle Algie again.

Shaking his head as one particular childhood memory springs to his mind; Neville sighs and with a new-found enthusiasm, starts digging at the heavy clay like ground behind the Manor's greenhouse.

Herbology has always been his favorite subject at Hogwarts and not only because of the kind Professor Sprout. As a child, the greenhouse had been his escape from grandmother Augusta's severe gaze, from her expectations and her disappointments… it had been his hiding place from uncle Algie, too.

All too well he remembers the loud, boisterous man of his youth. A man with thick dark eyebrows and a protruding chin and laughing blue eyes. Only when these eyes land on Neville, do their laugher halt, only then, does the high brow furrow and the eyebrows draw together.

Frank's boy, uncle Algie would tell anyone, "half a squib that one, nay an ounce of magic in him".

Clenching his jaw, Neville shakes his head again and puts his gardening spade aside. Long dexterous finger plunge into the clammy soil and close around the wriggling worm. Neville pulls the worm out and lifts him up to his face, curiously.

"Sorry about that." He tells the squirming worm, before carefully placing him in an empty flower-pot.

Worms are excellent for the soil, he knows, and so, he holds onto them carefully.

He stays out in the garden for as long as he dares, the sun hot and burning on his skin. With a sigh, he wipes a dirt caked hand across his sweaty brow and sits backs unto his feet.

Would Gran Augusta appreciate his work? Before he has time to ponder, deep inside his muddy trousers, a light heat starts to spread. His heart misses a beat.

Brow furrowed curiously, he stands, feeling unsteady on his abused knees and wiggles his hands inside his trouser's pocket.

Between some of his mother's candy wraps, a few sickles and a great amount of cotton fluff he finds a galleon. It looks innocent enough, sitting in his palm, though it is warm to the touch. His thumb scraps across the golden surface, spreading more dirt over it than before and annoyed, he quickly wipes it off with the corner of his shirt.

This particular galleon, was given to him by Hermione Granger, almost two years earlier. It is fake, a neat little piece of transfiguration, created as a mean to communicate between the members of the DA, an independent student defense association, also known under the name of Dumbledore's Army.

Last year, the DA all but dissolved, but Neville couldn't bring himself to get rid of the galleon. He's been carrying it around ever since, as a reminder. All summer, he's been waiting for a signal, some kind of news from Harry, thus it is not surprising that he looks at the galleon now, with a worried brow…

Hermione charmed the series of number of the galleon to show time and date of a DA meeting. It is numbers, Neville expects to see, charmed upon its golden surface.

"What on earth" he whispers, intrigued lifting it up to his eyes.

There, written in tiny little letters almost too small to see is a message.

_Help Luna 1:34:76_


	12. Chapter 12

_Help Luna 1:34:76_

Ronald Weasley looks at the galleon in his hand, balancing it from one finger to another. There's a scowl across his lips, as he reclines lazily on the couch.

Number Twelve Grimmauld's place is almost entirely deserted, safe for him, Remus, Harry and Hermione…and the ferret, of course.

Draco Malfoy, how could he forget the pompous ass?

It is astoundingly easy to cohabit, mostly because Malfoy clears out of his way and incredibly enough the blond seems to have gained some sense of humility.

Ron has promised both his mum and Hermione that he would at the very least make an effort. And besides, he doesn't want to look bad next to Harry, who's somehow become the Ferret's best pal, all around.

_Oh! How very mature you've become Harry ! _

It grates on Ron's nerves the way every one seems willing to forgive and forget all of Malfoy's transgressions, going as far as calling him an _innocent bystander. _

Ron snorts in derision. Innocent bystanders don't poison mead and certainly don't get involved with You-Know-Who in the first place.

Still, it is easy to forget their previous enmity when it is just chess they are playing. He is himself quite a good player and Malfoy actually offers him a bit of a challenge. Which is quite fun and exciting and as long as Ron still wins every round, he's fine with it.

"These are apparition coordinates." Hermione says, hunched over her own DA galleon, lips pinched.

She looks at him with narrowed eyes and he bristles under her gaze, sits up a little straighter.

"Are they?" he wonders.

It's not as if it matters, he thinks, Remus has already told them that there is nothing the Order can do. Not only are they spread out thin already, but Moody downright refuses to let anyone else stay at Grimmauld's place. The security of the Order members is already compromised enough, he claims, with a whole bunch of teenagers staying there.

"If there's going to be an open war, the _least _we can do is offer shelter to those who need it!" Harry'd yelled, all red and blotchy in the face.

But his words carry little weight around here. He is the owner of the house of course, but Alastor Moody is its secret keeper. And that was the end of the argument, really.

"How can you just _sit _there?! Ron?"

Shrinking a bit more under her gaze, Ron shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably.

Luna's a friend, so of course Ron is conflicted, but without the order…?…and what's he supposed to do anyway? He doesn't even _have _his apparition license.

"Look 'Mione it's not that I don't want to…but we can't be sure…I mean you _heard _Moody, earlier, didn't you? Anyone could have gotten one of these galleons and-"

He stops there looking at her helplessly.

Moody is sadly right on that front. They don't know for sure if it's Luna truly, who's send the message…and, as much as it pains him to admit it… it is true that the Order's purpose is to end this war as quick as possible, not to become a refuge for stranded wizards and witches. Ron's mission is to make sure Harry stays alive. That was his last promise to Albus Dumbledore, and it's a promise he means to keep.

"You are the strategist behind this war, Ronald." The old man had told him. "Miss Granger is smart and loyal and Mr. Potter has a good head on his shoulder…but you Ronald, you are necessary to win. You must watch over them, guide them. Do you understand?"

Ron hadn't known what he was getting himself into as he agreed to keep an eye on them. It was difficult work making sure all the time that Harry didn't get hurt and that all three of them didn't stray from the goal.

Destroying the Hocruxes was of outmost importance and Ron had sworn that he would see to it, no matter the cost. But mayhap…Looking at Hermione, and her teary eyes, he feels a pang in his chest. With a sigh, he stands up, his blue eyes in hers and smiles lightly.

"We'll get her." he says "I'm-

"RON, 'MIONE!"

Not a moment later, Harry bursts through the door of the drawing room. He is completely out of breath, it is obvious that he's run all the way up the stairs.

"We're leaving" He says without missing a beat.

"Neville got caught in the floo network" He continues, pressing a hand against his side, chest heaving with each painful breath. "At the Burrows…he wants to know what we plan for Luna."

Ron stares, his eyes focused on the pale silver hair, the pointy nose and grey eyes, just visible over Harry's shoulder.

_Since when's the ferret gotten all clingy? _He wonders, before offering his attention to Harry again.

"What do you mean he _got caught?" _Harry makes a face.

"He tried to floo while they were upgrading the wards. He's fine though, a bit shaken apparently…hit his head a few times"

A smile tugs at his lips.

"But you know Neville, always bounces right back up! Now, come on, we don't have time to lose!" Harry calls, already turning on his heal.

"Thank Merlin" Hermione breathes, scrambling for her wand and placing the galleon securely into her pocket, with a determined step she walks towards the door.

"Draco, can you manage that locator spell you were talking about?" She asks and in a gesture that seems entirely too natural, her right hand rises to Malfoy's forearm, as she pushes him out the door.

It a simple gesture of friendship and it lasts no longer than a moment, but her fingers trail just a bit too long on Malfoy's arm for Ron's comfort. He doesn't hear the answer, all he sees is the smug smile on Ferret boy's face, the elegant eyebrow that rises in challenge, and those mocking silver eyes.

"Ron, are you coming?" Hermione calls back, her willowy figure half hidden in the shadowy hallway.

But all Ron can think, anger boiling in his blood is _What the hell is going on?_

It doesn't help, Ron thinks, as he trails behind them, his feet pounding noisily on the stairs, that Draco Malfoy manages to look so bloody _handsome _at all hours of the day.

tbc.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sixth year Interlude **

He isn't surprised.

He's surprised at his own audacity, at the failed obliviate thrown at his godfather's face. He wonders dimly what Severus will do now, in the privacy of his office.

He's surprised…by the impromptu _kiss._

It wasn't _his _fault, really that Potter had been so _fucking _close to him all of the sudden, and looking so bloody enraged and.._ah…_uhm…well…kind of…hot, actually…that Draco had suddenly let go.

It's not…like it was planned, Draco thinks. Actually, he can't even remember why he did it….it seemed to him, that five years _long _years of frustration finally made him crack at the least opportune moment.

And really, it hadn't been a kiss. Just a…a…stumble on his part, a loss of balance and…lips that were very close to his own, just like that, all of the sudden…yes, of course, from the outside it might have looked like…

_Oh! _Who was he kidding?!

_Certainly not Severus Snape_…he thinks and scowls at himself. It's only the two of them and Draco expects the worse.

Draco is twelve when Marcus Flint brings a whole stack of muggle porn magazines to quiddich practice, proclaiming loud and clearly that _tiny whinny Drakie-Poo _isn't to look at them…so, obviously, Draco nicks a few and spends well over the next hour staring at the muggle pictures, slack jawed, in morbid fascination.

They are horrid things. Disgusting and depraving and mostly, he's shocked and a little disgusted by what he sees, but he can't seem to stop looking either way… soon he stumbles upon a few pictures which are _interesting_.

It is Draco's first ever foray into pornville, and the very first time he considers his own sexual preferences.

He is 14 when he realizes, that this big fucking moment he's been waiting for, the big reveal would never happen. At that time, Draco's thinks he's alone, that there's something wrong with him, some defect that can't be fixed… and he denies his orientation as much as he can, going as far as to stick his tongue into Pansy Paskinson's mouth at every available occasion. At 14, he knows he's gay and _isn't_ happy about it.

And he still hopes to wake up one day and _finally _come to his senses.

Which, you'll agree, was fucking naïve.

He's 16 now, almost 17 and he _isn't _surprised; he's even managed to make peace with himself somewhat…which doesn't mean that he's very happy about Severus Snape stumbling into the bathroom, while he, Draco, has his _lips _on Potter's.

He still can't quite believe _that_ actually_. _What the hell was he _thinking?!_

"_What were you thinking_?!"

Snape's voice is dangerously low, which is never a good sign. It means bad news all around because he 's so _angry _he can't even yell anymore. Draco honestly doesn't know how to answer that question. He's s scared shitless and not only of his Godfather.

In the 1990s, homosexuality is a taboo topic. It is an illness that afflicts only muggles, it is something to be found in the depraved corners of knockturn alley…it doesn't exist in proper society. As a matter of fact, fucking goats is considered more acceptable than fooling around with another man.

"Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord will do to you, when _this! This idiocy comes out?!"_

"_Idiocy? _IDIOCY?!"

Draco is livid.

It's taken him time to come to terms with his own sexuality. He doesn't mean to advertise it, not with the current political climate but it hurts to hear Severus Snape call it all an _idiocy _as if it were just another of Draco's _childhood fancies_.

Draco finds a word to identify his trouble at 13. _Homosexuality_. He's heard about it in passing, but doesn't quite know what it means. It is something foul certainly; by the way people say it. And he isn't entirely sure that it applies to him, simply because he can't find a proper definition for it.

He learns that in generations past, when most marriages were arranged and women were required to be maidens on their wedding day, it was almost expected of young men to experiment with one another.

Things haven't changed much in the 90s, but strangely, while experimentation is quasi _expected _it is only acceptable to _top _another man. Being passive during sexual intercourse is not. Homosexuality is defined by the assumed role of either partner during intercourse, and that in Draco's opinion is not only highly hypocritical but also very confusing.

At 15, Draco comes to the conclusion that the whole concept of homosexuality needs to be reevaluated. He's quite certain he could lay with a girl but he is equally certain that he'll _never _feel for a girl the way he feels for Blaise Zabini.

There is no mention of feelings, of crushes, of _falling in love _in anything he's read. It's a narrow definition he's found, one based purely on the act of penetration and which ignores all the complex emotional factors he is dealing with.

IDIOCY, my _ass! _Draco thinks furiously, as _if _there was any conscious decision to be made!

"Do you _think _I woke up one morning and _decided _to _like men?"_

He raises his voice, which is rare in Severus's presence, but he believes he is entitled to it. He too, can be furious, after all. Usually, Draco prefers not to think about the world's stupidity, but it's a difficult achievement when it glares him in the eyes.

"Your sexual preference _is no concern of mine _Draco…" Snape says, placating. And he sounds deadly calm.

Draco raises both eyebrows, so startled he is, and suddenly all the angry words he had in mind, have deserted him.

"Your _kissing" _Snape continues, and Draco cringes "_Harry Potter IS!_"

_Oh_.

Well…

Draco prefers not to think about _that, _he is certain Potter will tell on him. Blabber to the Headmaster, or worse, _the Press_... He can already see the Headline of the Prophet

DRACO MALFOY, SEXUAL DEVIANT!

"You are not in a position where you can allow yourself such indiscretions, Draco." Severus goes on "and your occlumency skill is appalling…" he adds as an afterthought, almost tiredly.

Draco feels himself blush when he realizes that he has, most certainly, been _broadcasting _his thoughts all around. Then his lips morph into a scowl, while he ponders whether the Ministry will arrest him. He's done some research, obviously, and it turns out that the last 'homosexual' wizard publicly acknowledged, was given the kiss, condemned on grounds of _inappropriate sexual behavior, and treason against magical kind. _

That was in 1967.

He isn't sure if any new law has been passed since then, but he certainly doesn't _want _to find out for himself…not like this, either way. Worse, as Severus so adequately puts it, Potter can easily fill a complaint for sexual harassment. Harry is a hero after all, and Draco, the son of a condemned man.

Fucking _brilliant!_

Draco is surprised at his Godfather's words, surprised that Snape's anger is not directed at _him_, but rather at his actions. He supposes that it was rather foolish to, _ah, kiss_ his nemesis…

Draco had expected worse from Severus, but of course, Severus Snape is, and always has been, an opportunist.

"Kissing the enemy in a bathroom what will your master say?!"

Draco's foolishness, gives Snape the opportunity he's been waiting for. He seizes on it and on Draco's insecurities, forcing him to make a stand. And his arguments are pretty convincing, Draco thinks.

"Can you be a killer Draco? You who couldn't even cast a _crucio_?! Do you realize what should happen were _word_ of _this _to reach the Dark Lord?! He will kill you. Worse! He will use you like a common whore! Can you _pretend _to be something, _someone_ you are not?! _Do you think he won't know_?!"

The next day Draco is unusually agitated more so than the day before, and that is saying something. He hasn't slept properly in half a year it seems, unable to relax or to think of anything else but the task the Dark Lord has set him.

But he worries for nothing, because there is no headline in the prophet. No strange looks or whispers behind his back. Only Potter's steady green eyes following him across the hall, at breakfast, lunch and dinner…Only Potter spilling pumpkin juice all over himself and walking into doors…

They don't talk, don't meet, until that day.

The 20th of April.

tbc.


End file.
